


Repulsed

by botgal



Series: No Worse, But No Better [4]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: And yes the actual kind, Beforus, Beforus Culling, Culling Abuse, Dubcon or Noncon Moirallegiance, F/M, Flashbacks, One-Sided Attraction, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Dubcon or Noncon Moirallegiance, Past Quadrant Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Time Doesn't Heal All Things, Triggers, and porrim's insistence on going pale with him, by his culler's pale and emotional abuse, in which kankri is still affected, isn't just a motherly quirk that does nothing but annoy him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-13 00:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10502619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/botgal/pseuds/botgal
Summary: You've done nothing but use anger to burn away the weight the past has left on you. But when you've never known nothing but that weight? What then? What is it when that fire of anger leaves and leaves nothing behind of you but char and ash?A story in line with "Alive" and "You Are A Culled Troll".





	

Your name is Kankri Vantas. You are six and a half sweeps old.

You are so very tired.

You're tired, covered with old injuries, and you just feel like you don't want to do _anything_ for a while.

At first, everything in the game felt so... so _different_.

 _Freedom_. Pure, absolute freedom. No more culler, no more rules, no more bell, no more _anything_. You could go outside as much as you wanted. Alchemize and eat whatever you wanted. If you wanted to go out and scream your heart out as you laid waste to dozens of hideous monsters, then by god you could _do_ it. Nothing and no one would be stopping you.

It felt incredible.

Then... it felt like nothing.

It's been little over a perigree since you've entered the game, and you've finally met up with all the other members of your session.

You're really regretting that you have.

Since being reintroduced to other trolls, and not just sticking to the safety of communication solely by computer, the loss of isolation feels like someone has just ripped away your comforting security blanket and thrown you out into a snowstorm.

They're too many and it just feels like too much. All their talking grates too much on your ears and just makes you feel like someone's dragging nails down your back ( _not like that not nails tracing down bare skin like digging claws into the flesh and pulling to leave bloody streaks its still better_ ). You try to talk and they talk over you. Your voice is too quiet, and the too many voices are too overwhelming.

You feel like they're always  _watching_ you. Too many trolls and all their eyes are on you even when they're not. You become self-conscious of the injuries and sloppy bandaging you applied to yourself after battles when fighting monsters still gave you a rush. You look  _(like culling bait_ ) weak _._ You feel the bit of weight you've gained from your indiscriminate gorging in that first perigree more when you're around them and you start to feel sick ( _ghosts of fingers that are no longer there tracing over bare sides look at you you're gaining weight how unsavory that is isn't it_ ).

You're always too aware of everyone around you. The lowbloods you pay less attention to. They're above you, they must know it by now with your off spectrum shade, but they ignore you. God at least you know they ignore you and you've never been more grateful for that than when they're all talking at once and you just want the universe to deafen you. Sometimes you have enough and you raise your voice and you talk and talk until there's nothing but the sound of your own voice drowning out everything else and you feel at ease again because it's  _better_ .

It's the highbloods you always  _must_ know where they are. They're so much bigger and their skins cooler. No matter what direction they're turned you always feel their eyes on you, judging you ( _mutant freak they must think abomination of nature can't be left by himself someone should take you and_ ). Even if the highest of the spectrum have little regard for you, you can't help it. They're all a danger to you. Any one of them could cull you and no one would ever say a word against them.

The only highblood you feel any relative safety around is Latula. She's your server player, she's seen you as you self-destructively set out in the beginning. She's seen your borderline insane actions and all she's done is suggest you 'take it down a peg'. Even over a chat, you feel comfortable, safe feeling that she has no intent of culling you. The paranoia is there, she always  _could_ do it, but you try to tell yourself she wouldn't. She knows what it's like to fear culling, even if she doesn't know it herself. What with her loss of smell in some accident. Such a small thing that could lead to a situation like yours. You feel like she appreciates the fact that you come from a culler. You respect her for her refusal to treat you any different from others.

And then... then there's  _her._

The bane of your existence. She insists on coming after you and trying to smother you. At least Makara refrains from coming too near, preoccupied with his messiahs and his matesprit as he is. With his blood ( _her_ blood), it would just be like everything happening over again and you couldn't take that on top of Porrim's constant badgering.

She wants into your pale quadrant, and you say no each time. Yet still she comes. She's somewhere over your shoulder and she's trying to talk to you or touch you or, god forbid,  _pap_ you. For someone who claims to have such excellent knowledge of quadrants, you feel like she has far less experience in someone  _refusing_ a quadrant with her. You're so tired of fending off her pale advances. You actually attempted to be polite, but then she just kept coming and you thought you didn't make your hint obvious enough. Until she's come to a point where you feel like you want to scream every time she stands too near you.

You can't stand her and her advances and you wish she would just  _leave you alone_ . You don't want her touch. You don't want her gifts. You don't want  _her_ .

And yet still she keeps coming.

“Kankri.”

Oh, speak of the devil.

You glare over your shoulder, trying to look as sullen as possible. There's a reason you're sitting away from everyone else. You would hope other people get the hint. As always, she ignores it and comes to stand close ( _too close_ ).

“Kankri, what have I told you about scratching your scabs? You're just opening them up again.” You lower your eyebrows in confusion before you realize what she means. Pulling your hand away from your face to look at it, you grimace when you realize your fingers have bright red thinly coating them. You must have started scratching at one of the healed over injuries while lost in thought, opened up. A quick touch to your cheek with your clean hand reveals the source, and you sigh.

“It's fine, Porrim,” you grunt. “I'll just go wash it off.”

“Kankri, I've told you you need to get them looked at. What if they get infected?”

“Then I'll deal with it, Porrim. It'll be _fine_ ,” You insist. You get up to try to walk to go wash it as you said, but she steps in your way and your annoyed grimace gives way to a full scowl. “ _Porrim_ , let me by.”

“Don't be such a wiggler, Kanny. Just let me take a look at it, like I've told you a million times.” She reaches for you and you jerk a step back.

“ _Don't_ call me 'Kanny'. It's not my name. And don't touch me.” She purses her lips and reaches for you again.

“Kanny. Seriously. You're going to regret it if it gets infected because you couldn't stop being such a little brat about it. Now just stop being so difficult.”

“I SAID DON'T TOUCH ME!” You're shouting suddenly and her expression turns into that all-knowing condescending look.

“ _Kankri_. Just come here and let me-”

She leans in and before you can so much as let out a protest, her hands are on your face and your stomach drops.

You're rigid as wood and your teeth grit so hard they hurt. She's moving her hands over your face and oh god she's touching you why is she touching you. Her fingers aren't that much cooler than yours but in moments they feel like ice and you pale instantly. You don't know if she can feel your pulse under her fingers but if she could she would no doubt feel how desperately fast it is.

Nonono god please stop touching get away get your hand away it doesn't belong there  **don't want it there** please let go jade is suddenly purple and her hand feels so much bigger and  **colder** than it is there are tears welling up in your eyes you're in the pile again and it's so cold stopstopstop **stopstopstopletgoletgoletgoletgoLETGOLETGOLETGOLET**

You turn your head sharply, not away form her hand but into it, and your mouth is open and before you know it she's crying out in pain as your teeth sink into the flesh of her arm. The disgusting metal and salt of her Jade blood is in your mouth but you don't let go until she wrenches her arm out of your bite, knocking you to the ground. You fall back, landing on your backside, and spit her blood from your mouth.

“ **Kankri what is wrong with you?!** ” That's good, yelling is good. **She** never yelled it was always softness and cold kindness and you want this yelling because it's not that. Porrim stands over you with anger in her face and voice. “You just _bit_ me.”

“I intended to.” It comes out as a mutter, and you see some of that condescending return. Some others are looking your way from the kerfuffle. She's nursing her injury but suddenly she's trying to reach for you. Panic leaps up quickly this time and you jerk out of her way. You're on your feet again and you're running.

You hear her calling out behind you but you just keep running. You're not going to give in. You're  _not_ going to let her cull you. Let her call you childish but she can keep her pale advances to herself. She wants what you don't and she just doesn't know how to take  _no_ for an answer.

You finally stop running when you get back to your hive, many portals and many steps later. You've run so much you feel like you might throw up, but you don't care. You go into your much expanded hive, certain to lock the door behind you in case anyone decided to follow after you.

You make your way up into your room, now littered with things you've collected and alchemized. You kick aside something and it shatters, but you don't care. It all seems so pointless.

You flop into your bed, knowing that you likely won't actually be able to fall asleep. But the fabric is soft and smooth and you close your eyes so you can bury your face in it. Not caring if any blood remaining on your cheek stains it. The room is silent and warm and there's no one around. Your body untenses, and you let yourself go.

No matter the bad memories you associate with this place, at least here, you feel some semblance of safety.

How fitting might it be, that your cage has become your refuge.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Motherly pale feelings and good intentions aren't going to cancel out the fact that legitimate emotional trauma is a Thing That Exists. No matter how much you push it.
> 
> On a different note, currently taking fic requests on my tumblr. So if there's something you might like me to try to attempt to write, feel free to send a request to [my tumblr here](https://botgalhs.tumblr.com/ask) and I'll see what I can do and post it there. And hey, if I feel confident enough about it, I may just post it up here too. So, if you want to try a request, feel free.


End file.
